


in the morning dew

by pleasert



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: F/M, Morning Sex, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasert/pseuds/pleasert
Summary: “Is my baby ready for me…?” he asks, his voice low and morning-sweet, as if hedoesn’tknow the answer, as if being this close to him for so long doesn’t make you wet automatically, your body knowing so well what can become of this, what he can do to you.Good morning, reader <3
Relationships: Brian David Gilbert/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	in the morning dew

**Author's Note:**

> warning rpf!!
> 
> reader is written to be afab!

You’re not fully awake when you feel some gentle shifting behind you. 

You love waking up like this. It’s warm, firstly—even if your brain isn’t all online yet, you can feel the things that the primitive senses in your body appreciate; his arms are heavy around your waist, holding you close; you’re wrapped not just in Brian, but tangled also in a linen sheet (the only thing you can both handle without getting too warm) and there’s something simply right about the way your body fits with his. Your back to his front, you seem perfectly aligned, each body part lining up with the next, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. 

Next—well, you don’t have to be fully awake to notice that he’s hard. Your senses are fuzzy and your eyes aren’t open yet, but you can feel his cock through the couple thin layers of fabric between your skin pressing into the curve of your ass snugly. This makes your barely-awake face crook into a smile, and you feel as though—even if you’re not sure completely, facing the wall—that he’s grinning, too. 

Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear a smile in his voice, still creaky and new, yeah, the first time he’s spoken today. As you hear the rumbling of his morning-voice, you’re aware of his hand that had been hugging your tummy and pulling you close to him and how this hand now drifts lower, slips under the thin fabric of your underwear to feel you, gentle and soft. His fingers first circle your clit, nice and easy, before drifting lower and curling a finger to ease into you, slow but practiced, knowing. “Is my baby ready for me…?” he asks, his voice low and morning-sweet, as if he _doesn’t_ know the answer, as if being this close to him for so long doesn’t make you wet automatically, your body knowing so well what can become of this, what he can do to you. 

(Of course he knows—and you know. You can feel yourself arch into his touch, curl your hips and pelvis back to get him deeper already. And, not to mention, you’re still nice and open from yesterday night—he gave it to you sweet and deep and hard, fucked you open on his bed first with his fingers and then with his cock.) 

Sighing a little, you crane your neck back to open your eyes and look at him, to connect your gaze with him, his fingers deep inside of you. He smiles to see you, the skin by his eyes crinkling a little. Circling your hips, you whine slightly, just a desperate strike of the vocal cords, and it makes him chuckle a little, his voice deep and rumbling against the skin of your shoulder. Your face heats, but his laughing doesn’t do much to you, just makes you move more insistently, arching your back to feel the hardness of his cock against your ass, rubbing the sensitive skin with the movements of your body. 

Without much warning, you’re empty, his fingers gone, but you clench in knowing anticipation as his hand moves your panties to the side. There’s something about that action that gets you—he knows this, of course, and maybe he’s doing it just for you—it’s the desperation of the action, that he couldn’t possibly wait for you to pull down your underwear before getting inside you. _No, no, no, baby, just pull ‘em to the side._ After adjusting the fabric between you two ever so slightly—pulling down his boxer briefs, pulling to the side your underwear—you can feel his cockhead slide over your wetness, warm and hard, a perfect thick mushroom just rubbing against your most sensitive parts. You arch quite naturally toward his touch, meeting his cock with the curve of your body, and you can feel the praise in his fingers as one of his hands still wraps solidly around your tummy, his fingers pressing into your bare skin. 

It’s not a half-minute before he pushes inside you, easy, practiced, but still new every time—he groans like it’s involuntary, and maybe it is, with both of your senses still half-awake, half-asleep. You can’t help but lean into the feeling, the way he pushes inside of you ever-so-slowly, like there’s nothing but time in the world. He’s so _hard_ , so _big_ , he feels like he does when he’s close to coming, and you guess you have morning wood to thank, and a sated sigh escapes your lips, too, as he settles fully inside you. “Ah,” he sighs out, “you—oh, you feel so good. Made for me.” 

You feel so full like this, especially in this kind of position, and you realize it’s just as you slept last night, your back to his front, his cock nestled between your parts, fitting together perfectly.

Though you could warm his cock like this for as long as he asks you to, he doesn’t stay still for more than a few dozen seconds before he’s moving, just slowly circling his hips in and out, and you cover your face to stifle your moans. Your voice is creaky this early in the morning and every noise is coming out a little weird, but he reaches to grasp your arm to pull it away, leaning forward to kiss your neck, still inside you to the brim. “Wanna hear you,” he murmurs into your ear, making a shiver travel down your spine. You’re sensitive here, and he knows it, closing the gap between his mouth and your ear to take the cartilage between his teeth and nibble slightly, leaving love bites all over the curve of your ear. The attention and pleasure-pain make you shiver, pushing your hips back to meet his slow thrusts. 

But Brian’s starting to awaken fully, by now, and his thrusts don’t stay leisurely; he’s inclined to twitch his hips in and out fast, guiding your back so that you’re arched towards the wall by his bed, your back perfectly slotted so that he can thrust into you with no trouble. For steadiness, you bring one palm flat against the cool wall and use it to gain leverage to fuck back towards him, too. You feel one of his hands trace from the top of your spine to the little divots above your hips—your back dimples—gentle and loving in his movements. Then, he grips the tender skin of your hip to guide your hips, toying with rhythm, and you gasp as he fucks you faster, as you feel him fill you up again and again, stretching you out exquisitely, making a squeak fall from your open lips. 

His free hand drifts, and you can feel it, similar to when he initiated this, coming to your folds like he’s trying to be secretive about it, but you push yourself into his touch. Without much cadence his pointer and middle finger part, feeling over your labia, feeling how his cock’s inside of you, stretching you open and making you groan. After this pause he gets to where he knows you want him, rubbing soft circles around your clit, gentle enough to not be overwhelming but hard enough to feel, and this is what truly drives you crazy, the feeling of being totally encompassed by him: stretched out with his cock, his fingers prying an orgasm from you, his hand guiding your hips to meet his steady thrusts. 

“Fuck,” he pants out, his hand coming to caress the small of your back, the expanse of skin bare to his touch. “Look so good like this,” he praises, and even through your self-deprecation and self-consciousness you believe him. Maybe it’s because you know you feel the same way about him—his tousled, sleep-messy hair and hot touches and sweaty hands just make you love him more, fall for him deeper each morning. “God, mmm, you’re going to make me come,” he gets out, his fingertips digging into your skin and pulling you closer. 

Hearing this makes a twinge of pleasure shoot through your body, from your fingertips to the top of your scalp to your toes. You’re going to make him come. It’s a beautiful thought. You’re devilish in your wants, but he’s willing to fulfill them when you ask pretty enough, so you turn your head back to him and ask, “Inside me?” 

He groans loudly, continuing his steady movements, his fingers rubbing your sensitive clit and cock filling you steadily. Leaning forward, he kisses and bites at the back of your neck, making goosebumps rise all over your body, making you bear down on his touch. “You want my cum inside you, baby?” he asks lowly, the words rumbling through you. “Want me to fill you up? That it?” 

Gasping as pleasure tingles all over your body and gathers low in your gut, you nod desperately, overwhelmed with the headiness of the moment and the good feelings encapsulating your entire body. You can’t speak to let him know because your body tenses, then, with the crook of his fingers and the steady push of his hips, and you can feel yourself on the edge, clenching hard around his cock. You’re positive he can feel it too—there’s no way he can’t—and he responds just perfectly, continuing his movements and even his words. “Want me to make a mess of you, huh? First thing in the morning, filled up with my cum. So you can feel it wet your thighs all day and remember how I fucked you good?” 

It’s exactly the right side of too much as your body completely tenses, and your head falls back onto his chest, crying out as you come, waves rocking from your core to your limbs. Your eyes squeeze shut and fireworks of color erupt on your eyelids, your thighs squeezing together and then apart again, grinding down to meet his touch and his cock. As you begin to recover, your toes uncurling, you feel Brian’s hips stutter and then still, completely buried inside you, hot and hard and big, and you hear a telltale broken moan that means he’s coming, confirmed by the involuntary twitch of his hips. You can’t feel his cum inside you—everything is too warmwetwarm to distinguish which liquid is which—but you feel wetness, which, you realize, is a mix of his and your cum, begin to seep out from you as he rocks his hips a final time inside of you, burying his cock inside of you completely and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. 

After your breathing begins to steady, you’re aware of not only the liquids wet on your thighs but the thin layer of sweat accumulated on both your body and his, and you smile as you shake his arms loose from your body, unsticking you from him and pushing his deadweight onto his bed. His eyes are closed and his mouth is stuck in a dumb grin as he flops onto his back, and you roll your eyes as you climb over him to stand up, finding a tissue nearby to do some rudimentary cleanup. You climb back into bed, though it’s a little gross, because you want to rest your head on his chest, hear his heartbeat and the steady rise of his breathing. 

“We gotta shower,” you say, because it should be said, because you’re responsible and you know you can’t fall asleep again, and he hums, bringing a hand up to brush your hair between his fingers, to push a piece behind your ear, gentle. 

You can feel his smile against the top of your head. “Soon,” he promises, “as long as we can share. Gotta save the earth, you know.” 

Satisfied, you close your eyes, and hum in agreement. You’d get up soon.

**Author's Note:**

> comment if u enjoyed! comment moderation is on so if you don't want your comment published feel free to just say so :)


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